


Insatiable

by orphan_account



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:58:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1816120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-S2 Finale. Beckett's ended things with Demming, she has accompanied Castle to his Hamptons home, but she still wants more...<br/>A fill for the Winter Hiatus '13 Kink Meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insatiable

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Beckett and or Castle/Beckett  
> She likes to be stretched.

_Skinny dip_ , he had said. Yeah, no, she wasn't doing that. Then again, two days ago she hadn't seriously considered accompanying Castle to his Hamptons home, and yet here she was. In the Hamptons. Single.

 _Single_.

The ache of the breakup tugged at her heart. It had been the right thing to do, to end it with Demming instead of leading him on, but it still hurt, the pain of breaking another's heart still lingered. She hadn't lied to him; he really hadn't been what she was looking for right now. On their evenings out she had forced more smiles than he had genuinely elicited from her. She hadn't dived into the relationship, no, she had barely dipped a toe in. What little sex they'd had, had lacked spontaneity, leaving her disinterested, leaving her bored. She was looking for something more animalistic, where the arousal built up within her, incrementally throughout the day, until unable to take any more she could drag her target into a supply closet, let herself be pressed into sharp shelves, while the exquisite pain of being filled quickly left her breathless (or maybe somewhere safer, away from work, in a study, lined with bookshelves). She was looking for-

She shifted her eyes up from her bare knees, to the figure slicing gracefully through the water, swimming laps with ease.

 _Castle_.

Here she was, sharing his home for the weekend, as a friend, a co-worker, a... partner? God, she didn't know what they were. But she had dumped her boyfriend to come out here. She knew what she wanted them to be.

Clad in a conservative one-piece, suited more for swimming laps in an Olympic pool than sitting on the edge, feet dipped in the tepid water, she smiled, bit her lower lip, and shook her head as he tried to coax her into the pool. Slightly out of breath, water dripping from his hair, down his face, he beckoned for her to join him. But resisting him was becoming too much like hard work - and she was on vacation.

He had been right. It was secluded, this pool. It was fenced off, away from the beach, nestled behind the house, away from prying eyes. It would be easy - so easy - to slip the straps down her shoulders, peel the suit down her body, slide it down her legs, let it gently float away.

Maybe later. _Maybe_ -

"C'mon, Beckett," he coaxed, water up to his chest, lapping at his nipples, hair damp and slicked back, droplets of pool water sliding down his cheek.

She caught herself licking her lip, realized as his eyes dipped, transfixed by her tongue sliding across her lip. She quickly pulled her tongue back into her mouth, clamped her lips tight together, but it was too late. Arousal flashed through his eyes, darkening them, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

She wondered what else was hard...

"Let's get you wet."

Too late. Oh, she was well and truly past getting wet. She was soaking the crotch of her swimsuit just watching him, thinking of him, needing him. She had, her arousal-laden brain decided, two options: slip back into the house and sort herself out, or slip into the pool and let him sort her out.

With a graceful motion, Beckett slid down into the warm water, until it covered her breasts. She pushed up on the tips of her toes, her nipples hardening from the cool air, from the almost primal flare of need in his eyes, and her seductive smile could not be suppressed. "Happy?"

He was silent, and she watched as he opened his mouth, closed it again, shook his head at himself.

"Oh, for the love of God, just say it, Castle."

"Say what, Detective?" he asked, all innocence and oblivion. All fake control, and faux resistance.

"You'd be happier if I lost the suit," she supplied, quietly daring him on with her eyes to say _yes_. Internally pleading with him to say _yes_.

He pretended to consider it for a moment. "I wouldn't be _unhappy_ , should that occur."

Beckett responded by dipping her head under the water, slicking her almost shoulder-length hair back, and when she straightened back up and cleared her vision he was staring at her, his lips parted, pure need burning in his eyes. His eyes bore into her as she moved through the water, bridging the distance between them, the journey slowed by the resistance of the deepening water. She kept her confidence, held her chin up, prayed he wasn't about to reject her. She'd been struggling to resist him since their first case, since he had suggested an evening of _debriefing_. He had been _too_ good at pressing her buttons from the start, but recently those buttons had turned into triggers, and lately he'd been pulling at her relentlessly. Not even Demming had been able to distract her from the fluttering in her stomach, the swell of her heart, the warmth that coursed through her, when Castle's hand brushed her, when his eyes burned into her, when he whispered double entendres that she didn't even think were jokes anymore.

Kate Beckett was well past ready to test that theory.

She stood before him, licked her lower lip, watched as his pupils dilated from just the sweep of her tongue. With every ounce of courage she had, Kate rose up on the tips of her toes once more, letting her swimsuit-clad breasts be exposed to the cool night air. She swept the pads of her fingers across her shoulders, and the straps of her swimsuit were brushed down her arms. They hung low around her upper arms, the tight material of her suit still clinging to her breasts, her eyes never leaving his.

A flash of concern replaced his arousal, and his hands covered the straps, keeping them from dangling any lower. "Beckett, you don't have to," he told her carefully, in a low, serious tone.

"What if I want to?" While he held the straps, she lifted her shoulders, and eased her elbows, and then her arms, out, until his hands pressed the straps of the suits to her ribs, his fingertips brushing the sides of her breasts. She saw the apprehension in his features, saw him wrestling with the way their relationship was about to seriously shift. "You have the control, Castle." She turned her head and brushed her lips against the sensitive shell of his ear, before murmuring, "Undress me."

He let out a low moan of primal need as he gave in to her, gave in to his needs, an entire year of undressing her with just his eyes assaulting his memories, and began sliding her suit down her long torso, beneath the water, baring her breasts to the cool night air, uncovering her. And then his hands stilled, and he shook his head. "No," he said, resolutely. "You just broke up with Demming, Beckett. Our first time won't be a rebound."

Kate brought her hands up to frame his face, and smiled softly. "I'm not rebounding, I promise. I broke up with Demming because I-" She swallowed hard, and sucked in a deep breath. "I want you, Castle. Just you."

"Are you sure?" he forced the words out, his tone full of a desperate need for reassurance. "If you have any doubts about this, about us..."

"Why did you invite me out here, honestly, Castle?"

"Because I-" He almost laughed at himself, at his inability to find the words. "If I could write this down it would be much more eloquent," he admitted.

"Because you want me?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Then prove it."

His hands found her hips beneath the water, the tips of his fingers pressed into her soft flesh, holding her steady, and his lips met hers, silencing any further words from either of them. Her mouth opened, and his tongue delved in, and she clung to his forearms, her fingers curling tight around him, to keep her body from swaying.

He walked her back, to the side of the pool, lips working hers the entire way, while hands fumbled with swimsuits, until his floated quietly off behind him. Pressing her hard against the side, his arousal pressed into her, insistent, ready. And God she was ready too. Her hips bucked, slamming her pelvis to his, and her hand moved around to his ass, to pull his body closer to hers. She undulated her hips, desperate for friction, all _now, now, now_. He jumped her up on to the edge of the pool, draped her legs over his shoulders, slid the crotch of her suit aside, parted her folds, and thrust his tongue inside her. Her hips bucked hard against his face, her fingers held tight to the side of the pool, and she mewled in pleasure as his tongue circled, and slid, and thrust, and laved.

"God, Castle," she groaned out. He entered her then, with two wet fingers, before pressing his tongue firmly back on her clit, drawing tight, hard circles with the tip. She let out a sharp gasp as he filled her, the sudden thrust of his thick, long fingers sending pleasure shooting through her. "More," she pleaded. Two were never enough. Her hips bucked against his mouth as he slid a third, and then his pinky, inside, stretching her as he pumped all four fingers deep. He curled his hand, and the pads of his fingers hit the softer, smoother, spot within her. She cried out as he vibrated his fingers against it, stimulating her g-spot, and drawing a long, hard, orgasm from her.

She shook against him, the water lapping around his body as he felt her ride out the waves of release. He flicked her clit with his tongue one final time, eliciting a moaned, _too much_ , from her, before withdrawing his hand, and easing her legs off his shoulders.

She laid back on the concrete tiles around the pool, and sucked in a deep breath. _Christ._

Castle ducked his head beneath the water, leaving traces of her in the clear water, and then jumped himself up onto the edge, and exited the pool. He stood, and then reached a hand down to help her up. Her eyes lingered on his impressive size, quietly thankful the water hadn't been cold. He cleared his throat, chuckled, and she met his eyes, rolling hers at him, before accepting his outstretched hand. Standing on shaky legs, and rose up to kiss his lips, the musky taste of her lingering, if a little chlorinated now.

 _More_. She needed more. Pulling his body flush to hers, she pressed her lips harder to his, and thrust her tongue into his hot, open mouth. She dipped a hand down between them, closing her fingers around his hot, hard, throbbing length, and squeezed. She had no idea where his bedroom was, but wherever it was located it was too far away. She spied a long, cushioned pool chair in her periphery; she uncurled her fingers from around him, skated her hand up his toned abdomen, and walked them over to the chair, lips still sliding, tongues still meeting. He helped her down onto it, and, with a swift movement, he placed another, small, cushion under her hips, and angled them just a little higher, his hands at her waist guiding her into position. He dragged the swimsuit past her hips, down her long legs, until it hit the tiles with a wet _slap_. Kneeling between her legs, he gripped her hips, held her there, and guided his hard cock to her entrance, before _finally_ pushing deep inside her.

"Fuck," she breathed the word out slowly on an exhaled moan of relief, her body quivering as he filled her. His thick girth stretched her, his length pushing so deep she could barely stand the sharp, hot sparks of pleasure shooting through her. So slick, so wide, he slid easily in and out of her, pulling out almost to the tip, before thrusting deep, to the hilt, her body taking all of him. And still wanting more.

She shuddered against the pool chair, her pelvis rotating, rubbing against his to stimulate her clit, needing _more, more, more_.

"You're so wet, _Christ_ , Beckett."

She clenched her inner muscles around him, quick and hard, before relaxing. "More, Castle. Please, I need-" she pleaded, broken and desperate.

"You need more," he supplied, his voice low, his eyes locked on hers and full of understanding. He slid a hand down from one of her hips, and trailed the tips of two fingers to her entrance, to where he was pushed deep inside her. Carefully, slowly, he eased his fingers along the side of his cock, following it, pushing into her, stretching her wider, until both his cock and his fingers were thrusting into her simultaneously. Her body writhed against the chair, the muscles of her taut abdomen clenching, rippling, as she rolled her hips to meet his thrusts. His thick cock and fingers slid in and out of her in barely controlled movements, and the slight edge of pain that danced around the pleasure elicited soft gasps from her parted lips.

"More?" he asked, his voice little more than a strangled whisper.

"No," she gasped out, so wide, so filled, wound so tight, she was on the precipice of release. "Just, don't stop."

The flame of arousal licked through her body like a serpent's tongue, winding into a tight coil. Her hands grasped at the sides of the chair, holding on so tight her knuckles turned white. She met his thrusts, until her body reached its peak. She held a breath, her body growing rigid against his, hips angled up, fingers clenched around the cool metal sides of the chair. She held that breath until she broke apart, sucking in short gasps of air as she came hard. Her muscles rippled, tightening and relaxing as the waves surged through her. Her eyes slammed closed, and her head dipped back, and she gave up her last semblance of control to the orgasm coursing through her.

With her inner walls still fluttering around him, he withdrew his fingers, gripped hold of both her hips once more, and thrust messily into her, slipping so easily in and out of her now. His strokes shortened, his own body tensed up, his back arched, and then he too surrendered. He thrust hard, one final time, and stayed buried deep, his release pumping into her.

With shaking hands, he lowered her until her entire body, sated and pliant, touched the soft cushions of the chair. He stayed snug inside her as he lowered himself down, straightening out his legs, until his body covered hers, until his cheek found her shoulder, and his lips found her neck.

"Wow," he breathed out against her skin.

She exhaled a shaky breath, huffing out a broken laugh. "Oh come on, Castle. You must have better words than that?" she teased, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp as she did so.

"Later," he muttered. "I'm a little light-headed right now."

Her mellifluous voice was laced with a devilish edge as she murmured, "You're not going to pass out on me if we go for a round two, are you?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Round two," he answered quickly. "Definitely all good for a round two." He eased up off her a little, and brushed the tip of his nose against hers, eyes locked, foreheads almost touching. "Please."

She smiled, and captured his lips in a quick kiss. "Shame I didn't bring my _other_ suitcase with me."

He sucked in a breath, his eyes growing wide at her words, as the meaning hit his blood-starved brain, and his cock twitched within her. "We'll make do," he said quickly. He eased out of her, and helped her to her feet.

He had every intention of taking her up to his bedroom for the second round.

They got as far as the brick wall of the pool house; he pressed her up against it, hitched her leg around his waist, and slammed into her until the sounds of the ocean were drowned out, and all they could hear were their grunts as skin slapped against skin, the beat of their erratic hearts, and her low, desperate sobs of _More_.

And the pain of her recent break-up became a distant memory.


End file.
